Strawberries & Shawarma Coda: Motrin
by Fishyicon
Summary: She's the strong one. She keeps everything together and makes it look easy. So it's really not fair that the great Pepper Potts can be brought down by something so trivial, so stupid, as a couple strawberries. Pepperony, post-movie. Happy belated Birthday, Kkann!


**Title:** Strawberries and Shawarma: Senseless  
**Summary:** She's the strong one. She keeps everything together and makes it look easy. So it's really not fair that the great Pepper Potts can be brought down by something so trivial, so _stupid_, as a couple strawberries.  
**Disclaimer:** As for the 'verse, let's all love MARVEL. As for the movie, Joss is the boss. As for this unique premise, it's set in kkann's Strawberries and Shawarma 'verse. Which is basically the same 'verse in which all our stuff takes place. We have a convoluted train of headcanon.  
**Characters/Pairings:** Pepperony, brief cameos by the Avengers  
**Warnings: **Er . . . enough angst to drown in, as well as enough fluff to make your teeth hurt? Yeah.  
**IMPORTANT NOTE: **This story is a coda to chapter 11 of kkann's 'Strawberries and Shawarma.' I cannot recommend this story enough, and not just for the sake that reading it will allow this story to make much more sense on its own.

**A/N: **HAPPY RIDICULOUSLY BELATED BIRTHDAY, KKANN!

I so, so, SO had a plan for your birthday present, K. But then you went and wrote chapter 9 of Strawberries and I basically had to start all over again. And this is a really inadequate birthday present and I love you so much more than this little story can convey, but I sat in the tea shop with my journal and a vague idea of what I wanted to do the other day for an hour, bouncing the occasional idea off the girl behind the counter. And eventually I settled on this. And then I proceeded to write something else and throw ideas around and burn a few and cram a bunch more together and basically procrastinated for a month and a half before I finally settled on this. I'm not sorry for the fact that you already have loads of Pepper feels right now.

Also: Please abandon that bad habit of apologising for everything, love. That's my job and you know it. Don't adopt my habits, they're not good!

But yes! This is . . . well, if 'Strawberries and Shawarma' was a fridge, this would be the little post-it note you stick on it to inform someone of something important but that's not really a vital part of the whole. There's still food in the fridge. This just sticks there as a little tag-on for anyone with a few spare minutes to read. It was a scene I told Kkann I wanted her to include, and she didn't write it. So FRAK YOU, K, I DO WHAT I WANT. I'm taking matters into my own hands. And I think it's safe to say I don't know what I'm doing, but hey, I tried, and therefore no one should criticise me. (Bonus points if you know where that's from.)

Anyways. Better carry on with the story. I know it's way too short and really rubbish, but I did try, K.

* * *

The problem with being a superhero is that severe injuries and hospitalisation are occupational hazards. In fact, they're part of the job description.

The problem with having six superheroes living together under one roof is that the odds of something like that happening are raised significantly. More threats, more weapons, more villains.

But this isn't something he can fight. His suit can't save anyone in this case—though the fact that he has it on is evidence that he's tried, at least. No amount of brain- or fire-power is going to help here.

The only thing he can blame is a couple of _goddamn strawberries._

_It's not fair_, he keeps telling himself. Pepper is strong. Stronger than him, though he'll never admit that to anyone, especially not her. Probably even stronger than most of the Avengers in some ways. She is far too headstrong and professional and clever to take crap from anyone. She's the one that holds it all together when everything goes to hell and makes it look like the easiest thing in the world. So it's really not fair that even the great Pepper Potts can be brought down by something so trivial, so _stupid_, as a couple strawberries. How does that end up as any kind of logic? It doesn't. And Tony doesn't like things that aren't logical. This is his premise for silently demanding the universe quit the jokes and give him his girlfriend back this instant.

He, along with all the other Avengers are crowding up the waiting room, standing there looking ridiculously out of place. Maybe he's supposed to be doing something productive but he really can't right now. All he can do is stand there and try to get his brain to just stop for a few minutes.

Because he's Tony Stark and he thinks so far outside the box you usually can't even see that box if you squint, thinks so much all the time, about everything and anything, there is no conceivable way to make his brain stop ruling off things that might go wrong. Recurrence of the anaphylaxis. Critically low blood pressure. Respiratory arrest. The words fly in front of his eyes followed by vivid images that make him feel so off-kilter, maybe _he_ should be the one in the ER right now. Keeping a constant eye on him as only a natural leader does, Steve has already had to remind him to breathe—twice. Tony isn't sure if he hates him for that or not. But instead of pondering that, his brain keeps insisting he focus on the fact that Pepper just nearly—

She _didn't._ She going to be completely, 100% fine, given a few days.

Mentally, he knows it's stupid to be acting like this. _Logically,_ he knows she's fine, knows he got her here on time, knows Bruce delivered a shot of epinephrine; they didn't miss a beat. (Sure, he might have jarred her already fragile state a bit with the leap out the window, but he can plead his case later. _And there will be a later._)

So really, the way his heart is still pounding as if it's suddenly been motivated to undermine the arc reactor keeping it functioning . . . it's senseless.

Which, Tony thinks with a sly grin, has got to be rather accurate. Senseless. He feels numb enough. Can't feel much other than the world tilting slightly off its axis. Can't see much other than a constant replay of his girlfriend choking for air in his mind. Can't hear much beyond the his heart beating in his ears and a—

"Tony."

He jumps at the sudden voice, whirling around to find Steve staring at him in concern. Actually, most of the Avengers are looking at him that way. He doesn't really care.

"Maybe you should take the suit off," Steve suggests. Tony stares at him. "I'm sure someone would drive you home and back. Dr. Banner?"

Bruce nods, starting to stand up. "Sure."

Tony just keeps staring. Oh. Do they expect him to answer? _He's not leaving. He won't leave her alone._

"Yeah, thanks but no thanks. You may not believe me but it's really cozy in this thing." That, and it's the only reason he's still standing right now. "In fact, I may never take it off. You guys cool with that? Good."

Natasha stands up this time. Tony doesn't let himself look at Clint. "Look, Stark, we're just trying t—"

He takes a step back. "I said, no thanks." And with that, he walks right out of the waiting room, ignoring how loud the clang of his metal boots sound against the concrete floor. If anyone has a problem with it, tough. He's Tony Stark and so long as the prospect of seeing Pepper again soon is still uncertain, he doesn't give a damn.

_Stop thinking like that_, he chides himself. Except he can't. He really, really can't. He's strong and he can handle everything and he doesn't need anybody else but damn it, Pepper's really the strong one here. And he doesn't have her right now. And that's just unacceptable.

Eventually, he finds a mostly-deserted corridor and stops, leaning against the wall. Iron Man—Tony Stark, either one—doesn't get sentimental, doesn't cry, doesn't lose it over one mistake. So he doesn't cry. He just stands there and tries to hold himself together until he has a verdict. The occasional doctor looks at him oddly, but he ignores them. Steve pokes his head around the corner at one point to check on him, but Tony tells him to get lost (except he uses much more colourful words to say it).

He doesn't want anyone's concern, or sympathy, or even attempts to make him feel better. He just wants Pepper to be okay.

* * *

Tony's been through a lot, especially in the last couple of weeks. He's been hit by lightning, nearly been shredded by an enormous propeller engine, fought masses of aliens, nearly been trapped on the other side of a portal, and almost died. But none of those things can compare to the amount of fear that shoots through his chest when Bruce comes to find him half an hour later, conceivably on behalf of the doctors. Which can only mean two things, really.

"Tony . . ." Bruce begins, and Tony swears the guy's only taking a pause here because he hates him and just wants to see him suffer some more. "She's fine. A bit drowsy, but she'll be all right with a couple extra hours of sleep. I'd, uh, give you the full medical run-down, but honestly, you don't look like you can handle it right now. You okay?"

He nods faintly. Yeah, he's fine. His head is just spinning uncontrollably and his legs feel slightly weak and he's pretty sure someone screwed up royally when they built this hallway on a significant angle. The fear that had been gnawing at his heart suddenly collides with the immense relief and adds to the feeling that he might just collapse.

He tries to get out an "I'm fine," but it takes him two times to say it loud enough to be heard. Bruce nods.

"Well, she's asking for you, if you want to go see her."

Tony's absolutely certain Bruce is just playing with him now in order to make him feel worse. _If you want to go see her_. As if anything could stop him.

Bruce leads him along the corridors, but Tony doesn't really notice where they're going. He isn't really focusing on anywhere but their final destination. Maybe they end up in another wing, or on another floor altogether. It really doesn't matter. At one point, Bruce pulls him to a stop—a small feat rendered more impressive by the fact that Tony's still covered in metal battle armour—and tells him that Pepper's still going to be very tired and probably not especially coherent, and that if she wants to sleep he needs to let her. He agrees to it without thinking. Anything, so long as he gets to see her and talk to her and touch her and reassure himself that she's alive and breathing properly.

And suddenly she's there, right in front of him. He swears his heart stops for a minute. Her eyes and nose and lips are bright red and slightly swollen, she's leaning against the pillows as if she hasn't got enough strength to sit up properly, she looks weak and small and in need of protecting and he _hates _that, but she's still there. She turns her head when he walks in and despite the obvious haze induced by the medicine they're feeding her, those blue eyes still light up and she grins at him. How is it possible that he hasn't realised how much he needs this woman until now?

"Hi," she says, her voice hoarse but still hers.

Tony forces himself to smile in return. "Hey, there, Pep." He slowly takes steps that carry him towards her side. "How're you feeling?"

She groans softly. "Ugh, don't ask. I don't even want to think about it right now. Or how I look. God."

He chuckles lightly. "You look fine. Maybe this hospital garb isn't your most impressive fashion choice ever, but hey, we all slip up some days."

"Ha, ha," she replies, not appearing to have the strength to genuinely smile at him again. "Well, it doesn't really matter. Point is, I'll be better soon enough to get something better from my closet back home. That'll sort it out."

He chokes out another laugh. "Yep. Nothing can stop you. You're strong as an ox, Ms. Potts."

Pepper squints at him suspiciously, and he wonders if he's said something wrong. He expects her expression might have more force if it weren't for the redness in her eyes and the exhaustion in her voice. ". . . Are you trying to say I look like an ox?"

Tony lets out a strangled laugh. "Wow, I can't win with you. I try to compliment you and you just twist it into an insult."

"Obviously, I just hate you," she deadpans.

"That's a shame," he retorts. "Here I was starting to think we had something special, you and me."

She tilts her head a bit. "Ask me when I'm not drugged up."

"Sounds like a plan."

Pepper frowns suddenly, shifting a bit, and Tony can't help that he stiffens up in reaction. It's probably going to take a while before he can relax around her again. Huh.

"Tony," she murmurs, "Why are you wearing the suit?"

He looks down, seeing the glow of the arc reactor in the middle of a red and gold metal chest plate. "Ah. Well . . ." He probably shouldn't answer that. Not that she seems likely to remember this conversation later, but . . . "Let's just say it was all for a good cause. If you really want, you can yell at me later." He thinks about that for a second. "Though I'd really rather you didn't."

"Too late, you already said it." She looks like she's about to smile teasingly, but instead she stiffens and curls in on herself, falling into a fit of wheezing coughs that make him want to personally get rid of every single strawberry in New York. He practically tears off his gloves and gauntlets so he can put a hand on her back, the other finding one of hers. He rubs her back as the coughing subsides, and when she finally settles back into the cushions, her eyes look even redder than before.

His head is still a whirlpool of jumbled emotions, his heart still pounding far too quickly. All of a sudden, it occurs to him that he hasn't really said much significant to her. He's been coping with prescription-grade anxiety for the last hour or so, and all he's done is possibly insulted her and suggest she yell at him. Not his finest moments. He may not be great at getting out the words for what he wants to say, but he has to try. She's really way too good for him. Pepper deserves the words, at least. Pepper deserves the world.

"I'm really happy you're all right," he says earnestly. It relieves the crushing weight on his chest a little bit.

She smiles weakly, and for the first time, it really hits him that _she's going to be okay_. "Well, who else would keep everything running in that Tower of yours? Need to keep myself in good shape so I can take care of you. You wouldn't last a day without me, remember?"

Normally, he would have a better, wittier reply to that, but right now all he can this is, _I really wouldn't._ "Well, right now, it's my turn to take care of _you_. So, what are you up for, Pep? I could dash back to our place and grab some movies." He laughs inwardly. He's not going anywhere. "Actually, you probably just want to rest right now. How about a snack? Are you hungry? No strawberries, I promise."

"Not hungry," she replies, her voice already getting weaker as she inevitably begins to drift off.

"Well, I could bring you some pyjamas. That would make you feel better. Then again, we don't really want this arrangement to be long term, so let's keep our fingers crossed that you'll be able to sleep in your own bed tonight. For now, though . . . I could bring you a teddy bear!" He doesn't really care how stupid that sounds in retrospect.

"I don't have a teddy bear . . ."

"Yeah, but I could get you one."

Pepper shakes her head adorably. "You wouldn't do that."

Tony smirks slightly. "Are you trying to say I'm not romantic, Ms. Potts?"

Pepper mumbles something indistinct in answer. A "What?" is poised on the tip of his tongue, but instead he decides to take that as a way to get out of that particular conversation thread and moves on. He steps a bit closer to her because he can.

"Well, I need to help you somehow. Really, Pep, what can I get you?" She doesn't reply. Tony swallows, squeezing her hands. ". . . Motrin?"

Pepper's eyes are already closed again, her voice barely a whisper. He has to lean in to hear her words. "Or you could just . . . stay."

He does.

* * *

. . . And then it all picks up in Chapter 12 of Strawberries and Shawarma. Hope you all enjoyed it! Reviews are love, but hey, no pressure.

~Fishyicon


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